


cat's cradle

by skuls



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Episode: e189 Peers (The Magnus Archives), Episode: e190 Scavengers (The Magnus Archives), F/F, Gen, almost certainly not canon compliant, cat related fluff and angst, i would call this a fixit but it is really only an admiral fixit, there's some jm stuff in here but it is too minor to tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-13 08:21:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28775241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skuls/pseuds/skuls
Summary: Jon and Martin go out one day, on a trip to the eldritch horror-trap grocery store, and show back up in the tunnels after a few long hours, longer than any of the trips to the store that Georgie has been on. Martin has a bag of horrible spooky food, and Jon has a bag shut at the top that is wriggling suspiciously in his arms.  "Oh, great," says Melanie, when Georgie fills her in. "What monstrous thing has he brought home now?" Georgie would giggle if the situation wasn't at least a little potentially dangerous, Jon could have anything in there, really.---Or: an exploration of the fate of the Admiral, after the end of the world.
Relationships: Georgie Barker & Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Georgie Barker/Melanie King, The Admiral & Georgie Barker
Comments: 6
Kudos: 98





	cat's cradle

**Author's Note:**

> so i might be to much of a cat person, because learning the fate of the admiral in mag 190 affected me way too much, and 48 hours i was finishing this. this is WILDLY self indulgent, but i had somehow convinced myself that the admiral would be in the tunnels with georgie and melanie, and i wanted to write something that made me feel better about that before the show proves me wrong. (cats are absolutely little hell beasts that would torment other things in the apocalypse, but i still need kitty fluff out of this heartbreaker of a show, ok.)
> 
> i actually ended up incorporating a post 189 thing that never got finished, that was basically just jon and georgie reconciling. 190 did most of the heavy lifting for me, but i liked the bare bones scenes i wrote, and i wanted to take it a little further, so i absorbed it into this. convenient! (and yes, i am aware that the first paragraph or two is kind of a ripoff of the opener of "journeys at the end of the world"; let's call it a purposeful homage to myself?)
> 
> warnings for this fic: guilt, some mildly descriptive discussion of what goes on in the cat hell, and some foreboding of the Tragic End that is surely coming our way within a few weeks.

Georgie doesn't actually remember losing the Admiral. 

She knows that makes her a horrible pet owner, but the moments after the world ends are all a blur, and she is mostly focused on Melanie, on holding onto her. (Everything goes wrong and Georgie fumbles for Melanie's hand, grabs it and holds on so tight that her nails actually leave white marks behind, because all she can think is, _I just got you back, I got you out, and I can't lose you again, I WON'T._ And she doesn't. But she loses her cat.)

It was all such a mess afterwards—leaving the flat, deciding to try and find Jon and Basira, trying to get to the Institute and finding Melanie's therapist, Laverne, and then the tunnels, and—and _all_ of it… It took them such a long time to realize. (Melanie was the one to realize, actually, and Georgie knows she shouldn't feel guilty or jealous about that, but she _does_ . It's not a surprise, Melanie loves that cat as much as anyone, even though she pretends she doesn't, and Georgie loves her for it, but it just—the Admiral is _Georgie's_ cat, and Georgie feels an instant wave of guilt that she wasn't the one to realize he was gone, when she feels Melanie's fingers tighten around hers and hears her say, "Georgie? Where's the Admiral?")

People are more important than cats, Georgie knows most will say. Who do you save from a burning building? First the people, then the pets, and _then_ you save valuables. And Georgie didn't take much when they’d left the flat. (They hadn't packed anything, actually, except Melanie's cane and jackets, and Melanie's dad's pocket knife that she carried religiously before her skirmish with the Slaughter. The type of things you grab quick because you aren't thinking.) She saved Melanie, and then they saved the others, the members of the cult they have apparently started. But she didn't save her cat. Or maybe it wasn't possible to save him in the first place. 

Georgie finds him, after what feels like a couple of weeks, and it's reassuring after all the uncertainty—thinking that Jon and Basira (and Daisy and Martin, although she doesn't know them like Melanie does) are probably dead, and that her family and friends are either dead or being eternally tormented, just like the rest of the fucking world. After all that panic and worry, after her thinking that her cat is probably dead, too… it's strangely nice to wander into a hellscape, a nightmare for everything that could ever be tormented by a cat, and a paradise for every sadistic instinct a cat ever has. (Cats are predators; they're sort of little serial killers. Georgie knows this.) It's nice to come across the path of the Admiral's destruction and see him _happy_ —eyes glittering, whiskers and tail twitching as he goes on the warpath. (He's a good mouser. Georgie remembers that from two flats ago.) It's nice to know that he is… _some_ sort of happy. 

But he doesn't know Georgie. Georgie calls and calls and the Admiral doesn't look. Doesn't give her a second glance. And when Georgie reaches out to try and pet him, scratch him behind the ears the way he likes or rub his soft belly, he just jerks away, stalking after a bird with a great deal of relish in his eyes. 

And it _hurts_ . It does, to see the giant fluff monster who sleeps on her radiator turned into an _actual_ monster. To see the cat she's had since he was a kitten, who used to ride around in the front of her hoodies when he was very small, who hates thunderstorms and tries to drink water out of the faucet or the toilet sometimes, who sleeps on her desk when she records and meows in her face sometimes to wake her up at four in the morning and follows her from room to room, sometimes, begging for attention… like _this._ Tormenting other things, and not seeing or knowing her at all. 

But a part of Georgie, (remembering the hours and hours where she and Melanie were running and she didn't think about the Admiral at all), thinks she might deserve it.

\---

"It isn't him, you know," Melanie says, once, when she goes with Georgie to visit the Admiral. "Not really."

Georgie doesn't say anything. She knows she _should._ But she's watching the Admiral lick mud off of his paws, and his teeth are much sharper than they ever have been, and he still doesn't look at her. 

"Well—okay, some of it _is_ him, that isn't fair," says Melanie, quietly. "It was always _me_ in the Slaughter, t-the anger was mine. I've told you that."

"You have," Georgie says quietly, and she doesn't take her eyes off the Admiral, but she reaches back for Melanie, brushes her fingers lightly over Melanie's knee before squeezing it reassuringly. 

Melanie finds her wrist and offers her a reassuring squeeze in return. "So, yeah, some of this is probably him. Cats are just like that, they're little maniacs," she says, just dryly enough that Georgie chuckles a little. (She has to avoid looking at the piles of feathers and fur and bones, of course, to laugh at that.) "These things, they… they bring out the worst in people, you've seen it. But… they don't erase the good bits, not completely. They're _still there,_ a-and they can still come out when… L-like with Daisy. O-or Jon." (Melanie's voice goes a little lower on Jon, and Georgie knows why, but she also knows Melanie means Jon as a genuine example. She rubs her thumb absently over the scar on Melanie's knee.) "So… this isn't all him," Melanie adds, quieter. "The Admiral that likes to… y'know, nap on the radiator, or chew on your pens, or crawl all over you in bed, or sit on your lap for _four hours straight…_ " Georgie laughs again, more genuine, at that, because the inflection Melanie puts into it is too funny. Melanie laughs a little, too. "He's still there, and he misses you," she says, warmly.

The Admiral has stood up, stretched and stalked off after another sort-of kill. Georgie resists the urge to call out for him; she knows he wouldn't answer. Instead, she turns towards Melanie, leans into her side and lets her head fall against Melanie's shoulder and shuts her eyes. "I know I shouldn't be this upset," she whispers. "I mean… he's just a cat. I _know_ he's just a cat, a-and everyone's suffering, everyone in the _world,_ and I… and he's _all right,_ he's happy, he's… I shouldn't be this upset, w-when he's perfectly all right. But… I _miss_ him." She's already lost so much. _So much,_ and she still has Melanie, and she is so, _so_ grateful for that, but she… she misses her cat. She misses her cat a lot. 

"It's not silly, all right? It's _not."_ Melanie bumps her mouth against the top of Georgie's head, tightens her arm around Georgie's shoulder. "I miss him, too," she says softly. "Little bastard."

Melanie had proclaimed herself "not a cat person" the first time she was in Georgie's flat, _years_ ago. They'd been on the couch watching movies and drinking beer, and the Admiral had lumbered out of the bedroom and jumped up on Melanie's lap, and Melanie's eyes had gone wide with either shock or mild disturbance—and she'd said it then, with the awkward uncomfortability of having an unexpected ball of fur on your lap. Georgie had laughed and laughed, tipsy and on the edges of what she knows now was love, and pulled the cat onto her own lap, and told Melanie not to push it or she'd have to find someone _else_ to trade ghost stories with, who was a little more open to cats. (Kidding, of course.) But if Melanie wasn't a cat person before, she is now. The Admiral had stuck to her side throughout her recovery, before the end of the world, slept all day in the bedroom with her and followed _her_ around the flat when she got up. Georgie still remembers walking in one sun-warm day and finding Melanie curled on her side, asleep, bandages bright against the pillow cases and her hand stretched across the Admiral's belly. 

Georgie smiles a little, a sad sort of fondness, remembering that. She tugs at Melanie's shirt a little and leans up to kiss her, leaning into her and trying— _trying_ —not to think about the Admiral. And when they walk away from the cat hell, Georgie doesn't look back. 

Later, they lose some of the others, and Georgie and Melanie break down in the quiet of their own little nook of the tunnels, and Georgie can't stop thinking that this is fitting. That she has failed someone else in this apocalypse. That seems to be all she can do.

\---

There are weeks or months of nothing, between when they lose some of the others and when things start to change. Not for the better, Melanie's "prophecy" aside. In a different way. But Georgie can feel it, in the air or something, and she knows the others can feel it, too. Something is coming, and they all know it. 

And then Jon and Martin show up at the Panopticon, and the feeling starts to make sense.

In that strange moment of wild, sticky panic when Martin pulls Jon into the tunnels (when he yells and Melanie's hand closes hard over her arm in panic, thinking they'll be found), Georgie finds herself, against all odds, swaying under a wave of relief. It makes no sense; she _shouldn't_ be relieved. Jon being here could mean danger to them and the others; Jon being here means that things are changing, means that he has power in this new world, and Georgie was worried about this. Has been worried about it ever since it all started (since she opened the curtains and saw the world crumbling and heard her own teasing words from a long time ago repeated back in her mind: _Jonathan Sims, are you trying to save the world?_ ). Maybe she should be afraid of Jon (insomuch as someone who doesn't feel fear _can_ be), with this confirmation that he is not human and probably never will be again. (He looks… normal enough. Mussed and ragged from having been out there, hair too long, and bandages poking out beneath the leg of his trousers. But his eyes… glow slightly, in the dark of the tunnels, and it's startling.) 

But despite all the confirmation that Georgie probably should not be relieved to see Jon, she is. She just _is._ She can't help it. She looks at this Jon and sees the Jon she fell in love with in uni. The Jon she used to nap with in the middle of the day in her dorm, crammed unevenly under her quilt in the tiny bed with their arms and legs sticking out awkwardly. The Jon who left books all over her flat, with pages folded down to show where she should read. The Jon who helped her pick out the Admiral, and spent several weekends helping him get adjusted to her flat. The Jon who spent several months in her guest room, the Jon she spent six months visiting in the hospital, thinking he was going to die, and only feeling sharp, sick worry when she realized he hadn't. It's _Jon._ And as angry as she was at him, before, Georgie can't help but be happy at that, that he’s back. 

She'd thought he was _dead._ When they'd found the Institute empty with no sign of Jon anywhere… Georgie hadn't known what else to think. (No one had told her about Scotland; she hadn't wanted to know. In that first month of Melanie's recovery, she wanted to think about anything _but_ the Institute and Jon and all of it.) So she'd thought he was dead. It hadn't been for very long, once it became obvious that Jon had a considerable place in what was left of the world. But those horrible moments of coming here and finding the Institute abandoned… They'd thought they _all_ were dead, initially, and they'd both mourned them right alongside the ruined world. Georgie can't shake that horrible feeling, of thinking they were the only ones left, before it became clearer how the apocalypse worked. 

But here Jon is, _alive,_ and Martin, too, and clearly they haven't had the same sort of reassurance about Georgie's and Melanie's fate. "You're alive!" Jon says, giddy, and Georgie should probably focus on being relieved that they really _are_ hidden from every aspect of the Eye, but instead, she's just grateful they're all here, safe. (Even if Jon is something akin to an eldritch god in this new world, and even if she and Melanie have unwittingly become the prophets of an unexpected cult.)

They don't tell the others the full truth, because of course they don't. Who knows how they would react? There are larger things to worry about—the tape recorders, for one. Georgie spends a lot of time trying to smash them before Jon convinces her to give up. And then the two of them sit and talk, among the smashed remains of a couple of tape recorders, with another one running. Georgie apologizes, the words sticking in her throat like mud. Jon confirms their theory that he was, actually, involved in ending the world, and then sounds surprised that they don't think he did it on purpose. Georgie tells him about the Admiral, when he asks, and tries not to think about the day she'd brought the Admiral home, years ago, and he'd latched right onto Jon despite Jon's insistence that _he_ wasn't a cat person, at the time. (Cats always do that—find the person who says they don't like cats and latch on.) The Admiral has always been her cat, they all know this, but he'd been upset when Jon stopped coming around, the first time _and_ the second time. He had moped around the flat for days. And the look on Jon's face, when she tells him about the Admiral… Georgie can't think about it too much. She reminds herself that the Admiral is happy, that he's lucky to have come out so unscathed, to be a tormentor rather than the tormented. She tells herself it's probably for the best, the best he can get in this world. 

She asks Jon how to turn it back, and he says he doesn't know. Georgie was worried about that, too, all this time. She wants to believe the things in the visions Melanie's told the others she had, but she also knows the truth, that those visions never happened. That this might be the end of it all, and this is just _it._

She tries not to think about it. She leans against Jon's shoulder and feels him lean back, and she is grateful for this because she really _has_ missed Jon. (It's hard to cut people out of your life, even if you think it's the right thing to do. And she really _had_ thought that, until she hadn't, and then she'd thought it was too late to fix it. At the beginning of this, she'd thought he was _dead._ But he's here, and they're safe for now, and she's apologized, and they've cleared the air, sort of, and this feels worth preserving.) They sit and talk for a moment, sitting against the wall of the tunnel, and Georgie doesn't even try to push away the sick wave of relief when she notices the tape recorder isn't running anymore. Jon asks about Melanie, and she asks about Martin, and that takes them through a good bit of conversation. She fills him in a little on the cult. He tells her what's happened to Daisy and Basira and Helen, and Georgie doesn't know any of them well, but she feels sad anyway. So many people gone. Maybe no way to turn it back. This might be their forever, then. 

"Do you remember that big thunderstorm, a few months after I got the Admiral?" she says, when there is a lull in the conversation, because Jon is the only one she knows who remembers when the Admiral was a tiny kitten, and she wants to hold onto those memories. (She's got a picture, somewhere, of Jon asleep in an ancient armchair that she doesn't have anymore, with tiny baby Admiral curled up in the crook of his arm. They used to nap like that, sometimes, all three of them curled in random places or patches of sun.) 

Their heads are bent together, and she's staring at the crumbling stones opposite them, and Jon's breathing has gone steady in the way that suggests he is nearly asleep, but he responds after a moment, that inflection in his voice that means he's smiling. "Yes, I remember. He… he hid in the closet, didn't he? Under all the coats."

"And we tore apart the whole flat looking for him, because we thought he'd gotten out," says Georgie. She's smiling a little, too, trying to remember the fluffy weight of the Admiral curled in her lap. "Went around the whole building and halfway down the street in the rain before you remembered we hadn't checked the closet. Little bastard." That's what Melanie had said when she'd told her that story, laughing so hard she'd sloshed a little wine onto the rug. (It _is_ a pretty funny image, the two of them rain-soaked and several years younger, pushing aside exhaustion and annoyance and trying to soothe a shaking kitten.)

"He wouldn't leave your side after that," says Jon, fondly. "I remember. He kept crawling under the covers in the middle of the night and scaring us both half to death."

"Yeah. But I never minded." Georgie drags her fingers under her eyes automatically, even though tears aren't falling yet. She misses him so much. 

"No," Jon says quietly, and he finds her hand and squeezes it comfortingly before letting go. His hands are as cold as they always have been; at least that hasn't changed. "No, you didn't."

Georgie swallows hard, sniffles a little behind her free hand. "He… he's missed you, you know," she says. "He was very insulted when you moved out last year." Jon laughs a little at that. Georgie presses her fingers to her mouth, says muffedly, "I can… take you to see him. If you want."

Jon's voice is thick when he replies: "I'd like that."

Georgie leans harder into his side and they delve back into a comfortable silence. They sit there in this corner of the tunnels until Melanie comes to find them. 

\---

Martin and Jon stay for a few days (whatever days are). Catch up on sleep. Georgie admits it is a relief. She and Melanie agree: nice to have someone to talk to who _aren’t_ members of an accidental cult that unabashedly adore them. They talk through plans for confronting Jonah Magnus, (briefly, and without much obvious progress), but mostly they just recover. They paint a fuller picture of what's happened on their journey here, which explains a lot about how they are at this point. Georgie can't blame them for wanting another break (especially one where—according to Martin—Jon doesn't seem to be fading nearly as fast as the last time). 

Jon and Martin go out one day, on a trip to the eldritch horror-trap grocery store, and show back up in the tunnels after a few long hours, longer than any of the trips to the store that Georgie has been on. Martin has a bag of horrible spooky food, and Jon has a bag shut at the top that is wriggling suspiciously in his arms. "Oh, _great,_ " says Melanie, when Georgie fills her in. "What monstrous thing has he brought home now?" Georgie would giggle if the situation wasn't at least a little potentially dangerous, Jon could have anything in there, really. Evil tape recorder come to life or something. 

"It's, um. A long story?" Martin says, almost sheepishly, reaching out to squeeze Jon's shoulder. 

Jon looks almost guilty, lifting his chin to meet Georgie's eyes. "Georgie, I-I'm sorry," he says. "I just… I thought I could help, a-and I… I wanted everyone to be safe, b-b-before we go and…"

"Jon," Georgie says, deadly slow, mind racing trying to figure out what the hell could be happening, and she really _is_ scared now. "What's in the bag?"

Jon's face just gets guiltier. Martin nudges him and mutters, "Just _show_ them, Jon, it's nothing _bad,_ " and Jon's shoulders go nearly up to his ears in a sheepish shrug. He shifts the bag in his arms—entirely too gently for it to be something _bad,_ Georgie thinks wildly—and then moves it towards the ground, and then he reaches to unzip the bag, and just as he does, Georgie hears a distinct meow. Her stomach flips, predictably, and she's saying, "Jon, what did you _do—_ " when the bag opens fully and the Admiral crawls out, mewing with annoyance. 

Georgie's stomach flips all over again, her mind taken over by images of the Admiral stalking a bird, crouched over the remains of a small, furry rodent, not looking at her when she calls. For a moment, Georgie thinks he won't know her now. But then he looks straight up at her and meows again—his _I would like some cuddles, please_ meow—and presses up against her leg, and she makes a strangled, stunned noise. "You got him _out?_ " she chokes out. "How— _how—?_ "

"Is that the _Admiral?_ " Melanie asks, and Georgie can feel her hand fumbling until it lands against her back and presses reassuringly. "H-h-how the hell did you _do_ that?"

Georgie should be listening, but instead she reaches down and scoops up the Admiral, lugging him into her arms. He curls around her shoulders, rubbing his face against hers, and she feels tears rising up. She holds him close, probably too tight, pressing her face into his side, but the Admiral doesn't seem to care. Martin says something about how Jon can do stuff like this sometimes, but Georgie isn't really listening. She's looking at Jon now, who's still staring at her with wide, apologetic eyes. "Georgie, I-I'm sorry," he says quietly. "It's just… I care about him, too."

Georgie swallows thickly. Says, "You're an idiot, Jon," and jerks forward to hug him, smushing the Admiral between them. Jon jolts a little, initially, but then he loops his arms awkwardly back around her and holds on. (Good to know he still hugs like this, awkward and nervous as hell.) The Admiral finally makes a sound of protest before wriggling out to curl around Georgie's shoulders, but Georgie doesn't listen. She holds onto Jon like she'd wanted to nearly a year ago, when he'd woken up and for a few moments, she thought it would all be fine. (In the aftermath of the end of the world, she regretted pushing him away then. Of course she had.) "I don't ever want to know how you did this," she says quietly in his ear. "But… thank you. Thank you for bringing him home."

Jon, still stiff in her arms, leans down until his chin is resting against her shoulder. Murmurs, "Of course," so quietly she can barely hear it. 

The Admiral climbs down off of Georgie and goes to Melanie; Georgie can hear her scoop him up and say hello in a tearful voice of her own, can hear Martin unloading some of the horror groceries and say something about cat food. She keeps holding onto Jon, shuts her eyes and lets a few tears fall on the ragged fabric of his jacket. She hasn't really let anyone but Melanie see her cry since the apocalypse—since a long time before that, actually. But with Jon, she actually doesn't think she minds. 

\---

It's like the days after the horrible thunderstorm: The Admiral won't actually leave their sides, any of them. Maybe it's because he's always been a bit of a clingy cat, or maybe it's the new environment, or the hours-long jostly ride in Jon's bag. Or maybe Melanie was right, and he actually _did_ miss Georgie. Either way, Georgie doesn't care; she's just glad that he's back, that he's home, and that he knows who she is. 

The five of them sequester off in Georgie and Melanie's tunnel nook. This is Melanie's idea—"The last thing we need is for everyone to start worshipping the _cat,_ " she says. The Admiral would probably do better with less of a crowd, anyway, Georgie points out, so that's what they do. The Admiral seems to be having the time of his life (in a non-ripping-things-apart sort of way). He spends what must be half an hour grooming Melanie's hair. He spends a suitable amount of time crawling all over Jon and getting acquainted with Martin. Georgie can't stop petting him. (She'd call herself possessive, but, well, it's _her_ cat, and it's been weeks, _months._ ) They all settle into a sort of quiet, half-asleep bliss and let the cat get comfortable in there with them, crawling from person to person in a lazy sort of way.

Later, much later, Jon pries the Admiral up from the spot on his lap and passes him to Georgie. "I'd let him stay, but I'm slightly worried he's going to suffocate Martin," he says, dragging his fingers slowly through Martin's hair. (Martin is asleep with his head also in Jon's lap, competing for space there.)

Georgie laughs a little and accepts the cat readily, lugging him into her arms. He curls readily against her chest, purring softly. Georgie feels something swelling and ballooning in her chest, something deep and warm, and she reaches down beside her and grabs Melanie's hand and pulls it up to rest on the Admiral's back. Melanie mutters something in her sleep but doesn't wake up. Georgie covers her hand with her own on the Admiral's back, feels the rise and fall of his breathing, and tries not to be overtaken by the overwhelming sensation of having all these people (and cat) she cares about all in one place. 

"Thank you," she says quietly to Jon, slipping her fingers through Melanie's. "For going to get him. For getting him out."

"You've said that already," says Jon, his tone just light enough to tell that he's teasing. 

" _Jon._ " She shoves lightly at his shoulder with her free hand. 

"Yes, yes." He's quiet for a moment before adding, "... You're welcome. It's… it's better to be the Hunter than the hunted in this new world, but… I didn't want him to stay like that."

"Animal instincts, I guess," says Georgie. "Or something. I'm just… I'm glad he's back." She scratches the Admiral behind his ears; he makes a sound somewhere close to a chirp and presses his face into her stomach. 

"I wish I'd known he was there sooner," says Jon. "I mean, I would've gone for him, of course I would have, but I didn't… I thought he was with you, and I-I couldn't see you, so I… didn't look."

Georgie's quiet for a moment. "I… I didn't notice he was gone until we left the flat," she says quietly. "Everything was so scattered, after this all happened, a-and we just ran, and… all I could think about was holding onto Melanie." She pulls Melanie's hand up abruptly to kiss the back of it before lowering it and letting go, feels Melanie roll in her sleep til she's turned against Georgie's side. The Admiral starts kneading against her thighs, his claws pushing through fabric into her skin, and it doesn't take much for the tears to rise up. She wipes them away stubbornly. "I-I felt like such a horrible pet owner, running from my own flat and not even _thinking_ to grab my cat first. I don't… m-maybe he was already gone, when we left, and I didn't think of it because he wasn't there crying for us. But I didn't even _look_."

"You can't blame yourself for that," Jon says quickly. "I-i-it's the end of the _world,_ Georgie; rational thought is not at the top of most people's minds, when something like that happens. When it all… went wrong, I wouldn't leave our bedroom for a week. Martin was the one who wanted to… leave right away and save the world. I had to sit on it for quite a long time. It… it could've happened to anyone. It _would've_ happened to me, I'm sure, a-and… you couldn't have stopped it, even if you'd known."

Georgie winces a little, reaching down to rub the Admiral's belly where he's rolled over in her lap. "I-I know. It's just… I wish I could've done more, you know? _Anything_ more. It's not just the Admiral—the others, that we couldn't keep safe, that we lost… I _hate_ feeling this helpless. I hate the fact that I am safe when others aren't, and I can't really do anything to stop it."

"You've done what you could," Jon says quietly. "That means a lot. You went and saw the Admiral even when he didn't know who you were, when he wasn't himself. That's—that's _significant._ That's a lot more than anyone else has been able to do for their pets here."

The Admiral is nearly asleep, eyelids hanging low; he can drop off just like anything. Georgie stills her hand, letting it rest across his belly; the part of her that is still panicked, and filled with gratefulness to have him back, likes feeling the rise and fall of his breathing. "I… I guess it doesn't matter," she says softly. "It just matters that he's back."

Jon nods, takes his hand away from Martin to pet the Admiral across his back. The Admiral doesn't move, blissed out on the edges of sleep. Georgie smiles a little. 

After another long moment of silence—filled mostly with the smooth sounds of Melanie's and Martin's sleep-breathing—she says the words that she's been sort of avoiding, but that need to be said. "Jon? What do we do now?"

Jon's quiet for a moment, so long that Georgie actually starts to get worried. She looks over and finds blatant, clear worry on his face, finds him reached down to hold onto Martin's hand, clutching it tightly, like he's afraid Martin is going to disappear. "We… we save the world, I suppose," he says, almost mournfully. Georgie isn't sure if this is because he doesn't know if the world can be saved, or because he's worried about what will happen when it is. And she isn't sure she wants to find out. 

Jon can't survive without the Eye. Martin told them this one night when Jon was asleep, recounted how he'd faded in the little bubble they'd found outside of the apocalypse, and how he'd forgotten it all once they left. Jon can't survive without the Eye. Which means that if they can save the world… 

Georgie's throat is closed around something akin to grief, and she turns immediately to loop an arm around Jon's shoulders and hug him tightly, awkwardly, from the side. "Don't you die on me, Jon," she says sternly, as sternly as she can. "Not again." 

Jon's quiet for a moment, hovering on the edge of awkward blushing. "I… technically, I'm not entirely sure _I'm_ alive, either," he says, recalling that joke Melanie had made when they'd first come down into the tunnels. 

" _Jon._ " Georgie hangs on tighter. "Please. Just… please." She doesn't think she could take losing anyone else. She has Melanie, and she'll always have Melanie, and now she has the Admiral, and they're both safe, but everyone else… They're all gone now, they can't be saved by Georgie and Melanie. It's all gone, and she doesn't… she couldn't stand to lose Jon, too, after all of this. They're all safe here, as safe as they can be, and if the _world_ wasn't at stake, she'd want them all to stay here. But Jon and Martin can't—she _knows_ they can't. So she might have to settle, now, for making him promise not to die. 

Jon's stiff under her arms; he reaches out to pet the cat, his free hand shaking a little. "Okay," he says, leaning into her side, "I-I promise." And while Georgie doesn't believe it, not for a second (and her mind takes a hard swerve around the reality of that, she will _not_ think about it right now), she knows he really means it. 

She tightens her arm around him in another sort of hug, and feels his arm come around her and hug her back. "Thank you," she says, because that will have to be enough. And it is, it is. 

They let go, and Georgie leans back against the awkward pile of pillows and shuts her eyes, her fingers curling in the Admiral's fur. Lets herself drift somewhere towards sleep. And as she goes on, she tries to hold onto some version of this feeling, of having all these people she loves—Melanie and the Admiral and Jon and the others and even Martin—safe and whole and together. She doesn't think it will last—she's almost sure it won't last, actually. But they're all here now, and they're safe (Melanie's here, and the Admiral is back, and Jon is back), and that is all that matters for now. 

**Author's Note:**

> (do i have to add this to my tally of "tma fics with a big emotional reunion" if the emotional reunion was with a cat...)
> 
> thank you for reading! hit me up on tumblr @ghostbustermelanieking.


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